Not Alone
by thunderphoenix21
Summary: I, Kisvar, the only known Dragonborn, have defeated Alduin in Sovngarde. I joined the side of the Stormcloaks in the Civil War, and the Empire is subdued once and for all. Skyrim is at peace, and I am renowned across the Nine Holds. Now I'm starting on a new quest, one that started with two strangely-dressed men and an order to kill me from some person named Miraak...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I laughed in exhilaration as I performed a double slash with my favorite dual Daedric swords. The bandit in front of me blocked part of the attack with his iron shield and shouted, "You picked a bad time to get lost, friend!"

Since I couldn't think of a witty retort at the moment, I simply cut off his head with a perfectly timed power attack. Doubtless I'd think of one to say later, over a good bottle of mead when I didn't need it anymore.

Whatever. I looted him (he had nothing useful except 10 gold) and mounted my horse. I had owned this horse for nearly a month now. Although all horses were hardy and strong, they seldom survived when a dragon attacked, which happened more than you might think. I had defeated Alduin a few months ago, but there was still the odd dragon roosting in various places around Skyrim. Secretly I was relieved. First, I relied on dragon souls to unlock the power of my Shouts, and second, the scales and bones fetched a great price at the markets. Everyone wanted a souvenir from one of the great beasts.

I shook my head. I think the strangest things when I'm tired. I started with horses, then jumped to dragons, and now I'm thinking about my own thoughts….

I snorted quietly to myself and spurred my horse on. It was a black and white paint, my favorite color. Random thought again….

I had just left Redoran's Retreat, a bandit hideout that the Jarl of Whiterun had asked me to clear out. Whiterun was very close by, just a couple minute's canter to the east. Luckily, me being a Thane there and all that, I had my own house inside the city. It was pretty small, not much to look at, but Breezehome was far nicer than spending the night in The Bannered Mare, Whiterun's inn. Although after all this fighting, I was in the mood for a bottle of mead before I turned in. I would pick up my bounty tomorrow, then head for Riften and tell Delvin I had finished his job.

Yeah, I had a busy life, but I loved every minute of it. Even after I had fulfilled my destiny as Dragonborn, I still kept myself busy and happy as a successful adventurer.

A pack of wolves chose that moment to attack, leaping at my legs and tearing at my horse's sides. For me, wolves were a complete joke. Their claws couldn't even pierce my Daedric armor. Unfortunately, my horse was not so invulnerable. It let out a pained neigh, but even while under attack still didn't attempt to run away with me. Taking pity on the beast I shot each wolf with a fireball, killing them instantly. I wrinkled my nose in distaste as the smell of burnt hide and flesh assailed my nostrils and spurred the horse on.

By now Whiterun was just a mile distant. I crossed the last of the plains and came to the stable, where I left my horse with instructions for her to be fed and watered. The sun was just setting as I trudged up the path leading into the Hold. I noticed that the Khajiit caravan that occasionally camped outside Whiterun was there, the Khajiit setting up tents and displaying their wares. I didn't care much for Khajiit, a sentiment I knew was shared among most Nords, although unlike Ulfric Stormcloak, I didn't openly hate non-humans.

The guards at the Whiterun gates recognized me and pulled one open. I didn't even notice, still caught up in my thoughts.

That was the one thing that I disliked about Ulfric. He was a strong fighter, a true Nord. He would find his place in Sovngarde among the great warriors who had helped him defeat Alduin. I respected him, nay, _adored _him. He was my leader, and I had followed him throughout the revolution and broken down the great gates of Solitude with him at my side. But no matter how much I loved my leader, I abhorred the way he treated non-humans. If you had ever been to the Gray Quarters in Windhelm, you would understand. The humans lived in the clean and well-tended parts of the ancient city, while the Dark Elves lived in one corner in dark and filthy houses that were falling apart with age. It was true, some of those elves hated Nords just as much as they hated the elves, but still! And that wasn't all of it either. The Argonians who worked on the docks were treated almost as badly. They had better living conditions, but low wages and dissent from the Nords who worked there as well discouraged many.

And why? Why was it this way? I actually had no idea. Khajiits I could understand. The feline race from Elsweyr was known for its sneaking ability, an ability which was used most often for theft and murder. I had experienced this ability firsthand in many instances.

But why Argonians and Dunmer? Many people of these races worked harder than the Nords who ridiculed them.

But whatever. I was thinking too much again, and I was tired. Walking up the main road in Whiterun, I weaved through the few people that were still out and about. The shops were just closing up, which annoyed me because I needed to trade off one or two things I had picked up from the bandits' hideout.

"Olfrid, patron of the great clan Battle-Born, which I'm sure you know well," one of the Nords passing by said grandly.

I rolled my eyes and continued walking. Olfrid spent half the day wandering the streets, telling anyone who would listen about the "great clan Battle-born". I had learned to ignore him long ago. To him, being a Battle-Born was even more glamorous and noteworthy than being the Dragonborn, which was completely ridiculous.

I reached The Bannered Mare and sat down heavily on a bench next to the large fire pit in the center, grateful for the warmth. Although it was far warmer in Whiterun than in, say, Dawnstar, the air still held some of the chill from the north at night. Saadia came over shortly and asked if I required anything. I got a Honningbrew Mead and stared into the depths of the fire, sipping at it occasionally.

"This is one's a favorite of mine. A legend we all know and love." I looked up as the Bard started singing.

_"Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart._

_I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes._

_With a voice-wielding power of the ancient Nord art._

_Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes._

_It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes._

_Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes._

_For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows._

_You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come._

He finished singing to the general applause of the room. I applauded just as loud as anyone, that particular song being my favorite, and left the inn in high spirits, humming "The Dragonborn Comes" quietly to myself. I didn't think anyone in The Bannered Mare recognized me, which miffed me a little at first. In retrospect, however, a little break from all the notoriety and fame was kind of nice.

Upon entering my house, Lydia, my housecarl, said politely, "Long life to you, Thane." I nodded at her where she stood stirring some kind of soup in the pot on the other side of the fireplace, but went straight up to my bedroom in the loft above the main room. I divested myself of some heavier pieces of armor and flopped down heavily, exhausted. Clearing and looting an entire cave of bandits can do that to you. I had run into a giant as well. No, literally. I was coming around a large rocky rise in the ground on my way to Redoran's Retreat, and as I came around the side, I literally ran into its leg. Of course that made it hostile, but after fighting Alduin in Sovngarde, one lone giant was a walk through Solitude. Just don't let it too close to you and shoot it to death with magic, or else bash it repeatedly with a shield while stabbing in between the bashes. Simple as that, especially for someone as incredibly talented as myself.

Feeling very self-satisfied and proud of my accomplishments in life, I drifted slowly to sleep.

The next morning dawned, and of course it was raining. That was just my luck. Here I have a journey to Riften planned, and it just _has _to rain. Rain drips uncomfortably through the smallest chinks in your armor, never completely soaking you, but leaving you perpetually damp. You have no idea how _annoying _that is. But whatever. I gulped down a quick breakfast of snowberry crostata (which is heavenly, if you've never tried it) which revived my lagging spirits- at least until I went out into the deluge.

I slogged my way through the streets, grumbling to myself. Most people were inside, and it was too early as of yet for the merchants to open their carts in the center of Whiterun anyway. The Jarl ought to be up, however. He had had a lot to do in the aftermath of the Battle of Whiterun (which I had practically won singlehandedly, by the way), and was still not finished quelling some of the grumblings, most of which originated from clan Battle-Born.

My wandering thoughts had taken me all the way to Dragonsreach, and as the guards knew me by sight, I was allowed to pass without being challenged. I entered and walked up the short flight of stairs and past the banquet table, where the court mage and one or two others were enjoying breakfast. The Jarl was, as I had expected, seated on his throne in that lazy, unconcerned posture which was somehow copied by all the Jarls across Skyrim. Maybe it was a requirement, to master that pose…. I had actually tried to do that once, and it had turned out to be far more uncomfortable than it looked.

Stifling the sudden urge to laugh, I dispensed with formalities and informed Jarl Vignar that the bandits in Redoran's Retreat had been accounted for. With just as few words, he thanked me and handed me a coin purse, which I took gladly. I had a fair amount of gold, but more was always welcome, especially since I had a bad habit of overspending on Daedric arrows, health potions, and the like.

Exiting Dragonsreach and once more entering the pouring rain, I headed for the stables, determined to follow my plan to go the Riften even in the rain. With any luck, it might clear up later anyway. My horse, on the other hand, was neither so inclined nor optimistic, and it took me a good five minutes to coax her out of the warm, dry stable into the yard so I could mount. Even then she put her head down pitifully and looked miserable, but I was firm and we took off at a canter across the plains surrounding Whiterun, heading southeast. I had made the journey between Whiterun and Riften several times, and knew the route so well I seldom followed the roads. Anyway, there was some interesting stuff out there. Shrines, abandoned camps to loot, bandits to slay, and new locations to discover and ink onto my map were all things you couldn't find following the same roads everywhere. A map which, if I may brag some more, was more complete than any other map in Skyrim. Do you know, I've had scholars send legions of soldiers to kill me, just to obtain that map?

… Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration.

Fine. A complete exaggeration. Probably no one even knew I had a map.

The water was starting to get through my armor now, and I could feel it trickling down my back in the most infuriating manner. Thank the Divines, however, that most of my other weapons and armor that I was carrying at the moment would be kept safe and dry in my pockets.

I know, you must be thinking, "Pockets? You can't fit weapons and armor in pockets." Yes, you can. These pockets have been enchanted appear smaller on the outside than they really are on the inside. I could easily carry another set of armor than the one I already had in them, along with the loot from two dragons and still be able to carry a few more pounds. As a rule, however, I tried to carry only two suits with me, a suit of heavy armor and one of light armor. My light armor was used for my… _other _job, and my heavy armor for general fighting. One thing about being both the Dragonborn and a member of the Thieves Guild is that I really had to watch my step. If the people of Skyrim found out the hero who had saved their province from utter ruin was a member of a band of thieves, well, let's just say things might not go well for me.

So whenever I was given a new job, I always made sure to change into my set of Thieves Guild armor first, not only because it was all enchanted with various spells that heightened various useful skills, but also because of the hood that overshadowed my face even in bright sunlight.

Speaking of sunlight, it had finally stopped raining and the sun was peeking over the smaller hills outlying the Throat of the World. I turned my horse a little to the left in order to avoid those hills, reminiscing over my first time climbing the largest mountain in Skyrim. On the outskirts of Ivarstead on the eastern side of the mountain there was a pathway leading to the seven thousand steps, the only way up the mountain. Why would anyone want to climb a mountain? Well, the Greybeards, masters of the Way of the Voice, lived at the top (well, almost the top) in an ancient fort. They had called me shortly after I Shouted for the first time, and consequently I had made the long and bitterly cold journey up the seven thousand steps. At first I had actually tried to count the steps (being curious as to whether there were really seven thousand of them) but I kept getting attacked by ice wraiths and the like. Then I had lost the steps somehow and spent nearly five hours trying not to slide to my death. I did make it eventually, and when I complained to the Greybeards, they simply asked me why I didn't use Clairvoyance. I had totally forgotten about that spell, and it still miffed me to this day. They had been too polite to laugh, but still….

I was now on the other side of the Throat of the World. Turning a little more south now, I began to keep a sharper eye out. Bears and frostbite spiders infested southern woodlands, and although they were no danger to me, they could still kill my horse. The woods were strangely quiet today. I saw two frostbite spiders when crossing the Darkwater River, but nothing more dangerous.

Before the sun was even directly overhead I arrived at Riften. I left my horse at the stable like usual and entered the city. Deciding to sell off some of my unnecessary loot, I first headed for the center of Riften. If you're ever in a strange city in Skyrim and you want to find the market, try heading toward the middle.

Grelka was her usual charming self, saying as I neared her, "You gonna stare all day or buy some armor?"

I hope you noted the sarcasm in that.

I sold two dragon bones and two dragon scales before she would buy no more, then moved on to the next merchant. By the time I was finished bargaining, I was several pounds lighter and had bought a refill of Ebony arrows for my quiver. I nonchalantly strolled to the Riften graveyard and, ensuring no one was watching, I pressed the button that opened the secret entrance to the Thieves Guild and climbed down the ladder. "Where's Delvin?" I asked Rune.

Rune jerked a thumb in the general direction of the Ragged Flagon. "Where he usually is."

I gave him a nod and went through the disguised door into the Ragged Flagon. Delvin was indeed sitting in his usual place at the table nearest the door. When I told him I had finished the job, he said his usual "I might start to respect you" line and I exited through the secret entrance 600 gold richer.

I took in a deep breath of air. Riften air may smell like fish and stagnant water, but it was better than the smell of the sewers beneath the streets. I could never understand how Delvin, Vex, and Brynjolf spent so much time down there; I could hardly stand to go down and report before leaving just as quickly.

_What should I do now? _I pondered. I hadn't really decided what to do after I came to Riften, so I took a look at the journal in which I jotted down the various quests I had incurred. Crossing off the two newly completed ones, I eyed the list. Retrieve this, find that, steal this, kill this dragon, those bandits….

_Screw this._ I decided to just explore a bit, maybe travel north to Windhelm while discovering a few new locations and maybe a couple new quests.

Pleased with my decision I left Riften with a sigh of relief. My mare whickered when she saw me, and I realized that I was actually starting to bond with this horse. _I should name her…._

I swung myself up and nudged her forward in a northerly direction, pondering possible names. Apparently, although I was great with swords and magic, I was not particularly creative. After ten minutes of steady trotting I still hadn't thought of anything. _Something warlike…. _Unbidden, my thoughts once more strayed to that last battle against Alduin. _That _had been a battle. I smiled, remembering all the freed dragons circling the top of the Throat of the World. Seeing so many of the majestic beasts in one place had been awe inspiring.

_Perfect! _"Gormlaith," I said to the mare. "Your name is Gormlaith now." Gormlaith had been a Nord warrior, one of the ancient Nord heroes who had first banished Alduin into time with the Elder Scroll. I had met her in Sovngarde, one of the few times I had actually felt humbled by another warrior.

Gormlaith snorted as though she approved of the name, and I stroked her neck.

The next instant I was hauling back on the reins as two strangely dressed people blocked the way in front of me. Gormlaith reared and I muttered some comforting nothings to her as I studied them.

At first glance they had reminded me of the dragon priests I had occasionally encountered in various barrows around Skyrim. Both of the- I actually couldn't tell what race they were- men wore masks that resembled the ones dragon priests wore, except they appeared to be made of bone. Long brown robes fell to their feet, and they wore boots and gloves to match.

"You there! You're the one they call Dragonborn?" one of the masked men demanded harshly.

For the first time since I had found out what I was, I felt reluctant to admit I was Dragonborn. I didn't know why, but these men made me wary, more so of something than I had been in a long time.

_Come on! _I scoffed at my own hesitation. _Don't be such a coward. _"That's me," I answered, watching for any signs of hostility.

"Your lies fall upon deaf ears, deceiver. The True Dragonborn comes, you are but his shadow!" The man appeared to be working himself into a fury, and suddenly both raised hands that were crackling with lightning.

_The true Dragonborn? _I suppressed a snort. These people were obviously quite deluded. "I don't know who you are, but I assure you, I _am_ the true Dragonborn." I would prefer to avoid a fight, especially since I _just _named this horse.

"None shall stand against Miraak!" With no further prelude they let loose twin lightning spells, both hitting Gormlaith. She let out a pained whinny and I dismounted with a curse, slapping her on the rump and causing her to dash away. Just in time I dove behind a tree and drew one Daedric sword, gripping a Fireball spell with the other hand. Their own lightning spells struck the tree with a crack. I yelped as some of the spell hit me around the tree. Even just that indirect hit had done quite a bit more damage than I had expected. _By Nocturnal, they're strong!_

I took the opportunity to peer around the side and shoot a Fireball at one of them. I was rewarded with a cry of pain, and I loosed another one from the other side of the tree. Another Chain Lightning spell struck the tree and it splintered around me. I felt the heat sear my arm even through the gauntlet.

My vision flared red as the dragon blood within me ran hotter with anger. _No, no, no! _But it was too late. The _dovah _side of me took over completely and with utter disregard for safety, I threw myself from behind the tree.

And Shouted.

_YOL TOOR SHUL. _Fire Breath. The men caught on fire before my eyes, and after just seconds, both were charred corpses.

Wearily I leaned against the burnt tree, staring at the two bodies. I'd done it again. Shouted. Even after I had promised myself I would be careful and never let the _dovah _side of me take over again.

Some people thought being Dragonborn was all glory and fame, but there was more to it than that. Dragons were naturally inclined toward fighting and domination, and since I had _dovah _blood in me, I was subject to the same urges. I fought and hid them better than dragons, but they were still there, and sometimes the dragon came to the surface and… took over. This was most likely to happen when I was hurt, tired, or angry, because then my self-control was at its lowest.

Don't get me wrong. My Shouts are almost always controllable, and the dragon part of me doesn't have to be in control for me to use one. It just… feels so _natural _that way. Stronger too. Normally Fire Breath wouldn't have killed both adversaries in one hit, but since the dragon had been in control, the Shout had been far more powerful. Powerful enough, in fact, to even scare me a little.

Sternly commanding myself to get it together I glanced around, hoping to find some sort of clue as to who the madman who had sent these men was. I caught sight of fluttering white paper against the brown of the fallen leaves and picked it up, unfolding it and smoothing it out.

_Board the vessel Northern Maiden at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Kisvar before he reaches Solstheim._

_ Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased._

I read the note four times, something that was totally unnecessary since it was so short I practically memorized it in one glance. Solstheim? That little island off the northern coast of Skyrim? Why would I want to go there?

Finding orders to kill me on the bodies of thugs who were sent after me was not an uncommon experience. Though there were many who adored me and praised my name, there were also those who hated me just as passionately.

Well, if this Miraak had hoped to either kill me or scare me off, he had sadly miscalculated. I was now determined to find the _Northern Maiden _in Windhelm, purchase passage, and head for Solstheim to see who this upstart was. Hopefully she hadn't yet headed back for… Raven Rock, was it? I consulted the note and found this was correct.

Having no inkling where Gormlaith was, I started for Windhelm on foot, glad that I had been heading there anyway and thus was not too far away.

I should really do some research on Solstheim if I'm going there…. Knowing the geography might help.

Did you catch the sarcasm in that?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The weather grew steadily colder as I trudged north, and not for the first time I marveled at Skyrim's sudden weather changes. In the north, it was almost always snowing and cold, with vicious blizzards that would spring up suddenly without warning. In the south, the trees were nearly always green and the sun was nearly always out. Snow only lay on the peaks of tall mountains in the south, while it covered the northern hills year round, making the footing treacherous.

Windhelm was finally in sight. A drab grey and white sight, but I was happy to see it nonetheless. At least I didn't have to actually enter the city, since I planned on going to the harbor. I crossed the river by jumping from piece of ice to piece of ice, then over the low barrier that kept stupid fools from just walking off into the freezing water. Some of the guards eyed my antics doubtfully, but they couldn't really say anything. There's no law that says you have to enter the harbor through the city.

I stood and surveyed the vessels that were in port. Most looked too small to cross an ocean, but there was one that caught my eye. I headed for the pier, trying not to bump into the Argonians who worked on the docks. I stepped onto the ship and picked the person who stood out most to ask, "Is this the _Northern Maiden_?"

"Aye, this is the _Northern Maiden_. But if you're looking for passage to Soltheim, too bad. I'm not going back there anymore," he replied brusquely, turning away at the same time.

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you the Captain?"

"Sure. Yeah. That's me. Who sent you?" he asked suspiciously, turning back around.

"Well, not six hours ago, I was attacked by two masked men who had a note that said they had come from Solstheim on the _Northern Maiden." _I idly looked around at the ship, noticing out of the corner of my eye that Gjalund's face had gone white.

"Now hold on!" he interjected hastily. "That wasn't my fault… I didn't know they were going to attack anybody. I don't even know how I got here!" He was starting to look slightly panicked.

"You don't remember how you got here. Do elaborate."

"It's hard to explain… I remember those people with the masks coming on board, then… Next thing I remember, I was here and they were gone. That's not right, losing whole days like that. There's been something strange going on there for a while, but after this… I'm done. I'm not going back to Solstheim," he finished adamantly. Gjalund turned away resolutely and headed forward into the bows.

_Oh yes, you are. _I followed.

"Are you deaf?" he bellowed angrily. "I already told you, I'm not going back to Solstheim!"

I could probably bribe him pretty easily if I gave a good enough offer. Or maybe if I was good enough, I could even just persuade him to take me. But I was quite annoyed by this time, partly at the captain's spinelessness and partly at the masked men's leader.

I stomped uncomfortably close to Gjalund and hissed, "People are trying to kill me. I'm not taking no for an answer." I allowed a hint of a Flames spell to come to my hand and looked significantly around the wooden, quite flammable ship.

I really had no intention of burning his ship, and if he called my bluff I wasn't sure what I would do. But Gjalund, after looking stupidly at me for a second, looked down at my hand and realized what I was threatening to do. He turned white as a frost troll and said hastily, "Hold on, now. I'm just a simple sailor. I never wanted to get mixed up in any of this!"

"Then fix what you caused and take me to Solstheim."

"Alright! I'll take you. But we leave immediately." Gjalund looked like he was desperately hoping I couldn't leave right then, which was why I took such pleasure in how far his face fell when I replied that I was quite ready.

Accepting defeat, he started barking orders at his crew. I took a seat in a part of the ship where I hopefully wouldn't be in the way and thought about the best way to take revenge on this Miraak.

After possibly the most boring few days I had ever gone through in my entire life, the _Northern Maiden _finally bumped up against the pier of the settlement called Raven Rock.

"Well, here we are. This is Raven Rock. Can't say I'm all that glad to see it again. Good luck. Maybe you can figure out what's going on around here." I nodded to Captain Gjalund and got off the ship, looking around as I did so.

It was a small port, with only a very few ships docked there. A tall wall rose above the masts and continued most of the way around the part of Raven Rock that wasn't protected by the sea. The residents of Raven Rock were mostly Dunmer, which made sense since the island had been given to the Dark Elves after the eruption of Red Mountain.

As I walked on the docks toward the gap in the wall, a finely dressed Dark Elf approached me. "I am Adril Arano, the Second Councilor of Raven Rock. I don't recognize you, so I'll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, outlander. State your intentions."

"I'm Kisvar, an adventurer." I didn't want to play the Dragonborn card just yet. "I came here in search of someone named Miraak. I don't suppose you can tell me where I might find him?" I asked courteously.

"Miraak, I…. I'm not sure that I do." His bearing told me otherwise. He had become uncomfortable the moment I said Miraak's name, and his eyes darted to the sides a couple times.

"Please don't bother lying to me. I'm really not in the mood for word games." Not a threat, but a subtle prod.

"I… I'm unsure. I swear I know the name, but cannot place it," he pleaded for me to understand.

I didn't feel understanding. "Are you sure you don't know anything else?" When he still looked hesitant, I said, "Surely you at least know someone I can talk to or someplace I can look for this Miraak."

He relaxed visibly when I talked of leaving and exploring a different lead. "The name has something to do with the Earth Stone, I think. But I'm not sure," he added quickly, probably to safeguard himself from my wrath in case he was wrong.

"Fine." I turned away to enter the interior of the island.

"Just remember, Raven Rock is sovereign territory of House Redoran. This is Morrowind, not Skyrim. While you're here, you will be expected to abide by our laws," he called after me, regaining some of his pompous attitude.

_Not likely. I just won't get caught breaking your laws. _I smirked to myself.

Upon finally passing through the archway into Raven Rock, I looked around with interest. The houses in particular caught my eye. They were made out of some kind of black stone, and had artistic curves and ruffles on the roofs with a slight overhang over the doors. The ground was covered in a fine layer of ash. I reached down and scooped up a handful in my gauntlet, eyeing it doubtfully.

I headed left along the wide street to sightsee a bit before I got too caught up in revenge. There was more of the same type of houses, then a well in the middle of a few different shops owned by vendors similar to the setup in Solitude.

I entered the inn (which was called the Retching Netch, of all things) and procured a map of Solstheim from the innkeeper. It was a bit vague, with only what looked like the most important locations marked, but it did at least show this Earth Stone place.

Leaving the inn, I sauntered over to the forge and stopped dead in my tracks. There was a Shadowmark on the door of the blacksmith's shop. Curious, I found the blacksmith banging on a shapeless piece of metal.

"Glover Mallory's the name. If you're looking for a smith, you've found one of the best," he assured me.

"Glover _Mallory_? Are you perchance related to Delvin Mallory?"

Glover stopped what he was doing and gave me his full attention. "Aye, I'm his brother. How do you know him?"

"I'm Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild." I figured it was safe to tell him that, since he was Delvin's brother and had a Shadowmark on his door.

"Ah yes, the new Guildmaster. I'm aware of Mercer's betrayal and death. I can't believe he could do that to the Guild. And we would never have suspected if not for you." Glover shook his head. "But what are you doing in these parts?"

After the way Adril had reacted when I mentioned Miraak, I wasn't of a mood to ask about him any more at present. Besides, I had a lead, and it was time I followed it. "Partly sightseeing and adventuring, and maybe also to hit a couple new targets." I winked.

Glover laughed and bade me farewell. I left the forge and headed back the way I had come, toward the exit from Raven Rock. A guard walked past me and I turned on my heel to look at him, ogling at his armor. It looked somewhat like dragon armor, but the bones appeared to overlap each other, and the style was different. Resolving to ask someone about that later, I continued my trip, following the map I had gotten. Apparently the Earth Stone was directly across the bay from Raven Rock, which was quite convenient. It occurred to me to wonder whether there were horses on Soltheim, which in turn made me think of Gormlaith. She better not have died, especially since I had just named her….

Ahead of me I saw several people clustered around a large round stone which was standing upright in the middle of a ring. As I walked toward it I wondered if these people were hostile, but decided I would figure that out if and when they attacked me.

The people appeared to be guards and citizens of Raven Rock. But why were guards doing construction? And what were they building, anyway? It looked like some kind of shrine.

One of the people approached me, but not one of the workers it seemed. He was a Dark Elf who wore long brown robes, the mark of a wizard. "You there. You don't seem to be in the same state as most of the others here. How interesting."

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?" I asked pointedly.

"Ah, I forget myself. I'm Neloth, a Telvanni wizard," he informed me, straightening his robes like the title ought to mean something to me. I had no idea what Telvanni wizards were, so I said nothing. "May I ask what you're doing here?"

"Here at the Earth Stone, or here in Raven Rock?" I asked, partly to annoy him and partly because I wasn't sure which he wanted to know.

"Both, I suppose," he said, a trifle impatiently.

I grinned. I loved getting under people's skin. "Both because I'm looking for a person named Miraak. I don't suppose you've heard of him?"

At least Neloth had a thoughtful look on his face instead of a frightened one. "Miraak… Miraak… it sounds familiar, but I can't quite place… oh. Wait, I recall. But it makes very little sense. Miraak's been dead for thousands of years."

You would think this would surprise and frighten me, but after having actually been to Sovngarde and seeing the warriors who originally banished Alduin from the world, a little thing like the knowledge that the person who was trying to kill me was supposed to be dead didn't shock me as much as it could have. "What you just said makes very little sense," I retorted dryly. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, but it is fascinating, isn't it?" He rubbed his hands together and looked around him. "Perhaps it has some relation to what's going on here. Quite unexpected. I'm afraid I can't give you any answers. But," he said, seeing I was about to interrupt, "there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak's toward the center of the island. If I were you, I'd look there."

_If you were me you'd be Shouting you into the ocean right now for being difficult and not knowing anything, _I thought sourly. I decided he didn't know anything else and changed the subject. "What are they doing?" I gestured to the shrine.

"Building something clearly. And yet they don't seem to have much to say about it." Disregarding the fact that he had just stated the obvious, something that _really _annoyed me, I looked at the workers more closely. They weren't talking among themselves, or making any noises, or doing any of the things that people normally do when working. Occasionally one would mumble something, but they never stopped working and their movements appeared jerky, almost automated.

While I was staring confusedly at the workers, Neloth had continued talking. "I'm very interested to find out what happens when they finish."

I had a feeling that what would happen when they finished wasn't going to be so much interesting as alarming, but I didn't say so. What I did say was, "Do you think we ought to stop them? They don't really appear to want to be working…."

"Certainly not!" he exclaimed severely. "Doing so would interfere with whatever is going on, and I would be unable to see how this all turns out."

Writing the wizard off as hopeless, I muttered something back and headed back into Raven Rock. I would go to this ancient temple and see if I had better luck finding answers there. _Why are quests always like this? You find one person who doesn't know anything but tells you to go somewhere else, and then you find out that you're supposed to go somewhere _else_ from there,_ _and so forth. Ugh._

I was glad to put the Earth Stone behind me. For some reason it freaked me out more than the Night Mother….

I passed through Raven Rock and exited the city through the other side. I glanced around as I walked, curious to see more of the island. On the left there was a cliff of strange cylindrical rocks that jutted up as high as the Raven Rock wall. They were as grey as the ash underfoot, which puffed up in fine clouds as I walked on it. The ocean crashed against the shore on my right, sending up splashes of spray where it struck rock.

_Maybe that's the rock that the houses were made of, _I realized.

I snapped out of my musings when I heard the sounds of conflict somewhere ahead of me. Drawing both Daedric swords I dashed forward, eager for a fight. Ahead there were what appeared to be the remains of a burnt farm. A Dark Elf stood fighting valiantly against three… somethings. I'd never seen these creatures before. They were man shaped, but looked as if they were made of ash and their deep-set eyes glowed red. There were large rents in their skins that glowed red like some Daedric artifacts, but whether these were wounds or the natural hide of the creatures I could not tell.

Whatever they were, they looked evil and I was in the mood for a quick fight. I leapt to the assistance of the Dunmer and began with a double power attack, sending of the attackers staggering back. It wasn't expecting me, and a few quick cuts finished it off. I made a face when it dissolved into ash on my favorite boots. Another one broke off its assault to attack me while the third kept up its battle with the Dark Elf. It raised its hand, palm glowing with a fire spell, and I dove to the side just in time. I cut at it from the side, but it was already backing away to get itself out of my range, but keep me in range of its fire spells. This tactic didn't agree with me so I jumped after it and landed a solid hit, this time ducking underneath the fire spell, wincing as I felt the heat fly above me. As it tried yet another fire spell (apparently these things didn't learn very well) I kicked its hand aside and stab it straight through the torso with both swords. It dissolved like the other had, and I spun around, swords raised in guard position.

The Dunmer had finished off the last one and stood panting, holding his arm gingerly. I sheathed my swords and waited for him to get his breath back. "Thanks… I wasn't sure I'd make it off this farm alive." He gestured at an armor-clad body I hadn't seen before. "I wish I could have said the same for my man here."

"What are those things?" I asked.

"An outlander, eh? Those were ash spawn. They've always been a bit of a problem, but for a while now they've been attacking Raven Rock in force. I came here to search for clues."

_Ash spawn. How creative. _"You must be the Captain of the Redoran Guard, then," I inferred.

"I am. Captain Veleth, at your service," he said, giving me a slightly pained smile.

Apparently I had assisted someone of very high rank, which was always useful. I made it a point to help as many people as I could because often if I ever needed something, a person who I had once helped would help me in return.

Which reminded me of that one time where I stole something from an important person, expressly so I could return it to make them divulge some important information…. _That _had been very entertaining.

"Actually, I could use a hand in this investigation. You've shown your quality as a warrior, we could use someone like you." He looked hopeful, and I considered, biting my bottom lip thoughtfully. It wouldn't hurt to help him in between my efforts to locate Miraak. Sometimes taking up a different quest for a while was a good way to get a different take on the main one.

"I'd be glad to give you a hand," I assured him.

"Good, I can use all the help I can get. We were searching the farm when the ash spawn ambushed us. Have a look around and see if you can turn up anything useful." He fumbled around in his pockets, most likely looking for a health potion. That cut looked pretty bad; it might take a while to heal by itself.

When asked to look for information, I always search any dead bodies first. I sifted around in the ashes the ash spawn had degenerated into and, to my surprise, found a piece of gold ore and some gold. In the next one I searched I found a note, and unashamedly I read it before handing it over to Veleth.

_Raven Rock Stronghold,_

_ My calls for the unconditional surrender of your forces and an immediate cessation of hostilities have been ignored numerous times. I therefore have no choice but to assume your purpose on Solstheim is hostile, and to treat Raven Rock Stronghold as an enemy of the Empire. I warn you, any attempt to breach Fort Frostmoth will be met with an equal level of aggression. I will do everything in my power to wipe you and your forces off the face of Tamriel. There will be no further communication between us._

_General Falx Carius_

_Garrison Commander, Fort Frostmoth_

After Veleth had read the note, he raised an eyebrow at the signature. "Carius _was_ the Imperial garrison commander at Fort Frostmoth, but he died over two hundred years ago when the Red Mountain leveled the place. There's no way he could still be alive." Veleth put away his Elven battleaxe, looking much better. "I will go rally the Redoran Guard. I recommend that you head to Fort Frostmoth and investigate the area."

I agreed, and he headed back in the direction of Raven Rock while I continued along my original course. _Miraak's temple first, Fort Frostmoth later. _I carefully marked the location of the farm on my map as I walked.

Hm. According to my map, the temple should be somewhere… right there. I could see the ominous stone spires rising up above the temple in the distance. There was a long set of stairs leading up to it. Generally going straight up the obvious way into a place that may or may not be hostile isn't very intelligent, but I had a high enough opinion of my skills not to care.

I started climbing the steps, then stopped and squinted ahead of me. What was that? It looked like….

Dragon bones. Mounds and mounds of dragon bones.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_The true Dragonborn. _The words echoed in my head as I recalled what the two masked men had said. No one but a Dragonborn could truly destroy a dragon by absorbing its soul, and these dragons had definitely been absorbed.

I was starting to put a little more stock into what they had said now. Dragons weren't easy to kill, and there were several corpses scattered across the mountain. Someone who could kill that many dragons wasn't really someone to be trifled with, and I wasn't ashamed to admit I valued my own skin more than revenge.

Never in my life had I run away from a fight, but I was seriously reconsidering my decision to come to Solstheim. Something strange was going on here, and while I had plenty of experience with strange, this was rocketing up even my threshold. I fidgeted with the hilt of my Daedric sword, weighing the risks. I could at least check out the temple since I was already here. If things went sour I could always back out.

Decided, I continued up the stairs, eyeing the dragon bones doubtfully.

As I climbed I carefully took stock of my surroundings. The stone pillars and rises of the temple were surrounded by wooden scaffolding, and more hypnotized people were standing around them with hammers. Ruins? This temple wouldn't be ruined for much longer, that was for sure.

_I wonder how long they've been working on it. _I stopped to look more closely at a few of the workers, noting that they completely ignored me just like the others I had seen. The incessant banging of hammers on stone was really starting to get on my nerves; the sound seemed to echo in my helmet, bouncing around until it drove into my ears as a dagger point. Briefly I wondered what would happen if I attacked them, but I realized that they could do nothing about their situation. Upon resuming the climb, I soon stopped being annoyed at the sounds and began hating the stairs. Have you ever tried to climb stairs wearing 60 pounds of armor? It's no pleasure hike. My calves were burning sharply by the time I finally reached the top and paused for breath, leaning against a stone pillar.

I found myself looking down some more stairs into a round depressed area of stone in the top of the temple. Ribs of stone curved up and inward toward the center, meeting above a column of stone that was uncomfortably similar to the Earth stone. Stone veins were carved around stone arches, causing the jaded sunlight to fall in dappled specks upon the stone floor. Stone, stone, stone…. I was beginning to be royally sick of stones. Stones were one reason I hated Markarth so much. How anyone could live in that pit was beyond me. Or was it because I had been thrown unjustly into Cidnha Mine and forced to work, then escaped with the leader of the Forsworn? Hm.

A voice broke in upon my ponderings, and I shook the thoughts away in a flash. A woman came into sight from behind the stone in the middle. "You must fight against what is controlling you! We must leave this place! Ysra, can you hear me? You must leave this place!" She caught sight of me and abruptly ceased her attempts to break one of the people out of their trance. "You there. What brings you to this place? Why are you here?"

I sized her up, wondering how to respond. She was wearing what appeared to be some kind of Nordic armor that I had seen before but never used or even looted. Straight blonde hair fell to her shoulders, and her voice had a stern tone to it that implied she was used to being obeyed. I, being my recalcitrant self, usually automatically disliked people who had that voice, because generally they expected me to obey them as well.

"Why don't we start with who you are?" I asked pointedly.

She pursed her lips together but answered me. "I am Frea of the Skaal. I am here either to free my people, or avenge them."

"Free them from what?"

"I am unsure. Something has taken control of most of the people of Solstheim. It makes them forget themselves, and work on these horrible creations that corrupt the Stones, the very land itself. My father Storn, the shaman, says Miraak has returned to Solstheim, but that is impossible."

Well, she was a chatty one. "This Miraak tried to have me killed," I stated, hoping she knew more.

"Then you and I both have reason to see what lies beneath us. Let us go. There is nothing more I can do here. The Tree Stone and my friends are beyond my help for now. We need to find a way into the temple below."

Earth Stone, Tree Stone, Pastry Stone….. "You're here by yourself?"

"There are a few of us left unaffected by this curse. My father, Storn, the shaman, protects them in the village. I fashioned an amulet to guard me against whatever has taken hold of the Skaal, but it is the only one of its kind. If I cannot find a way to save them, then there is no hope for my people."

_Yes Frea, I'm pretty sure I know your father's name now that you've told me twice._ I had no desire to go anywhere with this Skaal-

What was a Skaal, anyway?

-since I worked best alone. But then, if there were more of those masked priests down there I could probably use a little help. She seemed determined to enter the temple no matter what I said or did, so we may as well go together. I hated when I somehow managed to talk myself into something logical that went against my gut feelings….

"Fine," I said shortly. "Let's-"

A firebolt struck the stones uncomfortably near my right foot. I jumped with a startled curse, spinning around. Two of the priests had come up from the stairwell while we were talking and, if they hadn't had abysmal aim, I would be a roasted slaughterfish right now. With a war cry that was more a slightly garbled shout, I drew my sword and attacked them, sensing Frea do the same at my left shoulder. At least she had enough sense not to get on my right in the way of my sword. A couple seconds later the fight was over with me (okay, Frea too) having come out victorious and unscathed. She might have been obnoxiously imperious, but I could no longer deny that the Skaal could swing her double war axes.

"-go," I finished, leading the way. She followed me without comment, sheathing her weapons. I slid my Daedric sword back into its sheath as well. If I needed it again I could draw it quickly enough.

The stairwell curved to the left along with the circumference of the temple as we walked downward, though not sharply enough to cause dizziness. At the bottom was a large iron door, the creepiness of which I had only seen the match in the most ancient locations in Skyrim. With some trepidation I pushed it open, noting with some surprise that it swung smoothly open on obviously recently oiled hinges. Frea shut the door behind us as we passed through. The hallway was dimly lit with torches, the flickering lights casting dancing shadows upon the walls. At least it wasn't dark. I had actually only rarely found unlit tunnels in Skyrim, for much of the ancient ruins I was wont to explore were full of draugr, the ancient corpses of dead Nords. The draugr seemed to think it was their responsibility to make sure adventurers didn't have to carry torches, which was fine with me. It was a bit hard to loot chests and urns, carry a sword, and manage a torch at the same time.

"I will wait here while you check these rooms for anything of use," she said, indicating the doorways to either side of the corridor.

What, she didn't need 'anything of use'? Ill-temperedly I took a few healing potions that some fool had left just sitting there, found one chest with a few gold pieces and a Nordic bow in it, and returned to the passage. I didn't really need anything since I always kept my pockets fully stocked, but extra healing potions always came in handy.

We continued on through the corridor and the door at the end, where we both halted abruptly and at the same time. A stone pressure plate, carved to look like just another piece of the floor, blocked the entrance. For someone who had been exploring tunnels for a living for years, pressure plates were painfully obvious, but I was a bit surprised that Frea had seen it as well. My esteem of her rose just the tiniest amount. Before either of us could step over the plate, two masked men ran at us from somewhere in the room, shouting some more nonsense about Miraak being the true Dragonborn and whatnot. I was quite tired of people trying to deny who I was, so I jumped over the plate and killed the one I engaged with just a few strokes. Frea dispatched her opponent speedily as well and we continued down the stairs.

"Traps could be anywhere," Frea warned me. "Miraak was trying to take power here, and protect himself in the process."

Why did I feel like she knew more about Miraak then she was letting on? Of course, I hadn't really asked her about him, but neither did she seem overly willing to offer up the information. What was it about this person that was so terrifying and mysterious?

There was a gate just before what appeared to be a main room, but there was typically a pull chain just hanging there in the most obvious place imaginable. What was the point of having a gate at all if anyone could just pull a chain and open it? With this sarcastic thought in mind I pulled it and opened the gate. Frea immediately brushed past me and walked over to what appeared to be a guardrail around a square pit in the ground. I followed her and realized that it was more like an abyss. Anyone who fell down there wasn't going to survive. Conveniently there were stairs to the left that went around the obstacle in a downward slope, so it shouldn't be much of an issue unless we were attacked on the stairs. Frea leaned against the guardrail and looked up at a group of cages hanging from the ceiling. Some still contained the crumbling skeletons of the tortured people who had once been hung there, and I turned away in disgust.

"I do not wish to imagine the kinds of things that happened in this chamber," she muttered, though still looking up at them in morbid fascination. "Who were these poor souls trapped in these cages? What torture did they suffer at Miraak's hands? Was it in service to the dragons, or for his own purposes?"

In service to the dragons. There was more proof that Miraak had been and apparently still was Dragonborn. Not everyone who had served the dragons were Dragonborn, but still….

The growling of draugr sounded in my ears, and I looked down the long stairway. Two draugr looked up at us, somehow making their grunting-growling sounds even though their vocal chords had long been rotted away. I started shooting at them with fireballs while Frea brilliantly sprinted down the stairs to fight them hand to hand, and between both of us they were soon properly dead.

Frea came back up the stairs and pointed to the right and at higher balcony area. "There may be something of value up there. The stairs appear to be destroyed, but I have no doubt you could find another way up."

I supposed it was nice not to be doubted, but I didn't appreciate being sent all over the place. "I don't really need anything. If you want something, I also have no doubt that _you _could find a way up as well."

She wasn't even listening to me. Instead, she was already walking back down the stairs, one hand on one of her war axes.

This was going to be a long and vexing exploration.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I wasn't wrong.

Most adventurers like me hired a follower to help fend of draugr and falmer attacks while exploring the deep ruins of Skyrim. I preferred to sneak through the tunnels, giving me a chance to see enemies before they caught sight of me. Frea, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy making as much noise as possible. She kicked old rusty weapons out of the way, making hideous reverberating clangs that made me wince and slink along like a scolded cat, paused to comment on the history of the temple at the most inopportune times, and sneezed loudly once or twice, complaining plaintively about the quantity of dust in the corridors.

At least she wasn't like my previous follower, Marcurio. He apparently had the thinnest skin in Skyrim and was forever complaining about being too cold, then asking if 'it would be foolish to stop and light a fire'. I had lit a fire in a draugr crypt once, and it wasn't an activity I ever want to repeat. Something about the warmth and light must have attracted the bony things because every single draugr in the entire hole had woken up and come at me at once. Not a very comfortable situation, I can tell you.

The only thing I could really say Frea did well was avoid traps. She repeatedly noticed ones I didn't, to my carefully disguised annoyance. The bloody things were everywhere! Dart traps, battering rams, swinging blades, fire plates…. You name it, this temple had it. I had encountered traps in many of the barrows and old forts I had explored, but whoever had set these up could teach anyone a thing or two about subtlety. Even the many cultists we met and fought seemed to be unaware of many of the lethal traps.

I suppose that since there were that many traps in the temple that was a stupid time for me to be reminiscing about past experiences. I shook myself out of my reverie and followed Frea through two chambers, the second of which had nothing but a handle, which I pulled then jumped back very quickly to avoid any darts or otherwise potentially lethal devices. But there was nothing, and a section of rock wall opened up. Beyond was a sprawling room full of sarcophagi, and I could just see a throne with the figure of a sitting draugr reclining on it. There was almost always a high leveled draugr or something of the sort guarding the best treasure in these places, so this came as no surprise.

Frea, however, did come as a surprise. Instead of briefly mapping out a plan and possibly attempting a surprise attack as I usually did, she simply yelled a war cry and charged into the room.

I really wanted to stay behind just long enough to roll my eyes, but instead I dashed after her. She went straight for the seated draugr so I fought instead to keep the smaller ones off her back, thinking unkind thoughts even as I leveled a stroke at one's neck.

I had to admit, this fight didn't take very long. Between the two of us we eliminated all the draugr in just a minute or two, no health potions necessary. I might have to consider reevaluating my opinion of followers.

I didn't feel like looting the bodies at the moment, so I pulled the chain that couldn't possibly have been in a more obvious spot, jumping back once again to avoid any traps. But there was nothing but a gush of stale air as a door opened, revealing a long, serpentine path beyond. "Over here," I called, since Frea was still doing Divines know what in the other room. Not waiting to see if she followed I continued on, looking around me with unease until the corridor opened up into a small round room. My attention was immediately drawn to the center of the room where there stood a pedestal with nothing but a single black book resting on top of it.

A book. I just spent all this time creeping through a trap and draugr infested temple to find a book. Typical. Still, maybe it was a valuable book or contained information on Miraak.

Frea brushed past me to gaze at the book. "This book…. It seems wrong, somehow. Here, yet… not. It may be what we seek."

Here, yet not. If only I could use words with such eloquence and clarity.

I resolutely reached for the book and flipped it open to some page in the middle, intending to take a quick look at it here before we left the temple.

Have you ever tripped and rolled down a hill? No, really. Believe it or not, this isn't a random question. I did once, back when my parents were alive and I'd had a less adventurous life. I was playing tag with a neighbor's daughter and she decided that since I was faster than her she would simply tackle me. We ended up both rolling down the hill almost into the river. I remember clearly the way the sky, trees, and wildflowers seemed to melt into a confused blend of bluish green streaked with red and yellow as I tumbled head over heels.

This is how I felt the second I opened the book, except that the blur was less colorful and more of a dark green with black spots.

I didn't even have time to concentrate on the words before long green tentacle things reached out of the pages to wrap their slimy way around my entire torso while I couldn't move. The next instant the entire room vanished and I found myself standing in some place I had definitely never been before. I got a brief impression of a wide open space, tall pillars, a horrible stench, and strange floating creatures I had never seen before I noticed the man standing in front of me with his back to me.

"The time comes soon when…. What?" He turned around as though he had sensed my presence.

I reached for my sword, disoriented but not willing to go down without a fight. The weapon didn't even make it out of its sheath before the masked figure sent a withering bolt of lightning at me that surged through my body ad made my legs decide they were too weak to support me. I came crashing to my knees, twitching with the aftereffects of the shock.

"Who are you who dares set foot here?" he demanded.

Well, at least I found Miraak.

"Ahhhh," he drew out the word for an annoyingly long and gloating time, "you are Dragonborn. I can feel it. And yet-"

See? He _did _sense my presence.

"- so you have slain Alduin. Well done. I could have slain him myself, back when I walked the earth, but I chose a different path. You have no _idea _the true power a Dragonborn can wield. _Mul- Qah Div_!" he Shouted, shaking the ground beneath us. This was a Shout in which I didn't recognize the words or the effects. A fiery halo seemed to envelope him momentarily, but just as quickly encased him in protective, glowing-red armor.

I had to admit the effects were impressive. Well, I had to admit that in my mind. No tortures he could concoct would have enticed me to say it out loud, of course.

"This realm is beyond you," he stated with cold certainty. "You have no power here, and it is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon they will finish building my temple, and I can return home." Turning away as though he would deign to speak with me no longer, he said to two of the floating creatures, "Send him back where he came from!"

They began floating toward me in a mass of tentacles and green moss-like hangings. As they neared me I realized the horrific stench came from them, and belatedly began struggling to get up. Well, I thought I was, but then I realized that I couldn't even move, let alone struggle.

"He can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel," Miraak stated, probably for effect as he got on a dragon I somehow hadn't noticed until then. I couldn't tell for sure in my current state of near panic, but the dragon seemed to be of a different type than the ones.

I didn't notice much more after that. The two creatures lifted their thin arms and sent wave after wave of unfamiliar magic pulsing in my direction. I began to understand what Frea meant by 'here, yet not'. It didn't hurt, but I felt as though bits of my body were no longer there. Afterward, the best thing I could describe it as was feeling like a sponge, with multiple tiny holes forming all throughout my body. Whatever it was, eventually I could no longer see at all and entered into the same whirling kaleidoscope as I had upon entering, just without the tentacles this time. I shut my eyes against the whirling greens, and when I opened them again, I was back in the temple, holding the book. I released it instantly and allowed it to thump back onto the pedestal unceremoniously.

"What happened?" Frea's impatient voice startled me and I spun around, staggering a bit in a moment of lightheadedness.

"Maybe you should tell me," I suggested weakly.

"One moment you were here, then you were gone."

So the book had actually transported my entire body to what appeared to be an alternate world. I had heard of the possibility of such things but never expected to experience it myself. It took a few minutes to explain everything to Frea, and afterward she stared at the wall with a glazed expression. "So Miraak is indeed the source behind all of our troubles. I am not surprised to know this, but I had hoped perhaps we were mistaken." She thought for a minute more, then suggested, "We should speak to my father, Storn-"

"-the shaman, I know," I finished tiredly, pressing my fingers against my temple. "You go on. I'll catch up in a day or two, after I finish some business."

"Hurry. Miraak's power grows with every passing second." With that delightfully cheerful remark, she exited through the door to the left after quickly marking the location of her village on my map. I gave her about a two minute head start then also left, blinking as I came out into the bright sunlight. These places always had a secret exit near the end of the passages, for escape in case of an attack, as I suspected. Although I guess that really wouldn't make sense for burial crypts…. Whatever. I started the long trek back across the ashy ground to Raven Rock, intent on getting a good sleep in the Retching Netch before heading to the village of the Skaal. I would also, I decided, ask around a bit and find out a little more about the Skaal. I was slightly surprised to find a village of Nords on Solstheim, which was under the dominion of Morrowind. It had been a part of Skyrim before the eruption of the Red Mountain, so I supposed that could explain it.

I was so preoccupied on my journey back to Raven Rock that I tripped over rocks twice, almost face planted into a tree, and failed to notice some kind of giant attacking grasshopper until it leapt into by back. By the time I finally slogged under the wall and managed to convinced the guards that I wasn't an ash spawn (there was some similarity between the glowing red parts of the Daedric armor and the rents in the ash spawns' skin, I suppose) I was in a mood similar to that of a sabertooth cat that had been poked out of a restful sleep. The innkeeper sensed this and quickly showed me to a room, inclining his head on the way out. I dropped my helmet on the floor, running a hand through my hair in an attempt to get it to stop lying flat on my head, then shrugged off the rest of my armor down to my leather undershirt. Sometimes I forgot how good it felt to not lug around 60 extra pounds with me everywhere I went. Maybe I should wear Thieves' Guild armor for a while. Light armor wasn't my specialty, but it wouldn't hurt to wear it at least while I was in the Skaal village. Laying down on my back on the bed, I stared up at the plain ceiling that wasn't unlike the dozens of other ceilings I had stared at in the past years.

I had tried to settle down in my house in Whiterun once, but given it up in just a few days. It seemed all anyone in Whiterun did was stand about 'lollygagging', as the guards put it, and drink ale in the Bannered Mare. Normal life, to put it simply, bored me to death. I loved the caressing touch of the wind from the back of a cantering horse, the majestic danger of the snow-capped peaks that formed much of Skyrim's northern wilderness, even the stony depths of the deepest barrows where few went and even fewer survived. How could a city ever compare to the wild beauty and wonder of the unsettled regions?

Even in my own mind my thoughts were starting to sound like a poet's drivel, so I quit thinking about the scenery and went to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I kicked a patch of snow violently, sending a little puff of it into the air. It may not seem like that snow deserved it, but trust me, that was a very offensive patch of snow.

Did all the Skaal talk so much, or was it just Frea and her father?

Apparently Frea had disdained to tell Storn what had happened at Miraak's temple, so I was left the tedious process of explaining what had happened for a second time. When I had finished he professed that 'what he feared had come to pass' and asked for 'the All-Maker to protect us all'. I almost asked what the All-Maker was, then realized that would be the stupidest question ever and that it would give Storn yet another reason to talk me to death. I did however ask if he knew what the place I had been was.

I had guessed it was a plane of Oblivion, but I hadn't known it was Apocrypha, the plane of Hermaeus Mora, Daedric Prince of knowledge and memory. Every single encounter I had had with one of these beings had ended badly for someone, either me or another, and here I had a book in my pocket that could transport me to the domain of one at any time.

Storn Crag-strider had considered for a few minutes, then finally sent me to a location called Saering's Watch to learn a Shout that Miraak had mastered the first time he walked the earth. Apparently it could somehow free all the enchanted people if I used it on the various stones around Solstheim. How learning another Shout would help me defeat someone who probably knew a few thousand of them was beyond me, but I certainly couldn't defeat him now. This wasn't an admittance of defeat, just a simple logical fact. My magic was much weaker than his, and he would take me down before I could close with hand to hand combat. It hurt to admit it, but he was stronger than I was.

Did that mean I couldn't defeat him? No. When I found out I was Dragonborn there was no way I could have killed Alduin, but nearly a year later I had become strong enough even to follow the beast through a portal into Sovngarde and kill him there where he had enslaved the dead. I did not doubt that somehow I would find the power to kill Miraak as well.

And I wanted to kill him, very badly indeed, and not just for personal reasons. Yes, he had made me feel like a ten year old boy who couldn't even lift a sword, and yes, he had annoyed me by first complementing me for slaying Alduin then made it an insult by saying he could have done it himself, but these personal issues didn't blind me to the truth of the thing. I may not have heard of Miraak before, but I knew his type. Guys like that wouldn't stop at conquering an island with two settlements on it and a length that I could traverse in a day. As soon as Miraak conquered Solstheim, trust me, he would be on his merry way across the sea to Skyrim. I had saved Skyrim once, and I'd be banished to Oblivion if I was going to let it be destroyed now.

I glanced up from the uneven terrain that I had been keeping an eye on and stopped abruptly. I had reached Saering's Watch, if the stone structures built into the mountainside were anything to judge by. Torches glimmered from sconces set into the rock, a sign I took to mean that there must be draugr somewhere nearby. Ducking behind a rock, I carefully scrutinized the entire place. Not a dragon in sight, but I had no doubt one was around somewhere. They were attracted by word walls, cold, snowy heights, and animals to hunt. All three conditions were right; I had passed several wild goats roaming the hills. Maybe it was off hunting…. Yeah right. I never get that lucky.

There was still no sign if a dragon, either in the skies above Saering's Watch or sleeping near the word wall. Well, there was nothing for it. I wasn't going to wait here in the cold forever to find out whether there was actually a dragon here, so I sidled out from behind the rock and cautiously made my way to the right side of the location where I could see a way up.

To my relief, surprise, and suspicion, I made it to the wall without incident. The crackling power of the word distorted the air in front of it as I stared at the word, the knowledge and power entering me in a rush of wind. _Gol. _Earth, I realized as the word fused with the soul of the last dragon I had slain, filling me with understanding as the last of the wind faded away.

The growling of draugr reached my ears as it did, and I ducked just in time to avoid the war axe that whistled over my head. I drew my sword and sliced off the arm that held it, then spun around and impaled the owner through the gut. An arrow clinked off the wall beside me, causing me to jerk in reaction. I located the offending draugr just in time to dodge another arrow, then retaliate with a fireball. Even though its bow was on fire and its bones were blazing into dust, it still tried to fire one last arrow at me, but the bowstring was consumed before it was released. I happened to glance up and dove behind the partial shelter of one end of the word wall as blast of withering flame struck the draugr behind the one I had hit, accompanied by the furious roar of a dragon whose territory was being encroached upon. The enormous beast swerved around in midair and hovered in place, beating its wings to stay aloft.

Instead of looking into the blazing eyes of one of the Skyrim dragons I had become all too familiar with, I found myself looking at a creature that was as much snake as dragon. Muscles flexed underneath a smooth dark gray hide as the beast beat it wings. A ridge of dangerous looking webbing ran down its neck and back, reminding me forcefully of a mountain range, while atop the neck was placed a head with a jutting lower jaw and mirror-smooth nose. Small but cunning eyes surveyed the draugr, some of which were lining up bows on it. The dragon gulped in an enormous breath of air and blasted more fire at the draugr just as many of them released arrows at the creature. With a pained hiss it beat it wings violently and twisted about above Saering's Watch, roaring out its annoyance to all of Solstheim.

I wisely decided to stay safely in my little corner. I didn't really think it was cold enough to warrant getting set on fire, and anyway, I could come out and finish off the dragon after the draugr had worn it down a bit. Sure enough, the ones that still had bows were firing arrows at it and the ones that didn't were hacking at it every time it landed. I used this opportunity to observe how these new dragons fought. It seemed to know the same Shouts as a normal dragon, but delivered devastating bites with its powerful jaw. I would have to remember to stay very far clear of those teeth. It used the same strafing flights and tail slams as any other dragon, along with the same general fighting tactics.

There was only a handful of draugr left to resist now, but the dragon appeared to be panting and was covered in small wounds all over. As it felled the last draugr with a vicious snap I leapt out from hiding and shot a double fireball at it. The spells struck with their signature explosion and the dragon was bowled completely over onto its back. I dashed after it and stabbed it through the eye with my sword before it could even get back up. With a last weak growl it finally died, its whole body catching fire. I looked away from the bright glare, and when I looked again, there was nothing but bones and the blast of light as I absorbed the soul. The power rushed through me, spreading across my entire body until even my fingertips tingled and I had the sudden ridiculous urge to roar. The feeling finally passed, leaving me feeling somehow incomplete without the violent power.

Feeling suddenly tired even though I had done barely any fighting, I turned away from the remains to start the trek back to the Wind Stone near the Skaal village. This Shout had better work.

Some hours later I stood at the edge of the circle in which the Wind Stone stood. I sent a brief prayer to the Divines. "_Gol!" _I Shouted.

The earth instantly started shaking as the stone glowed yellow, then released a wave of energy that blasted the structure around it to dust. I jumped back with a startled yelp as a large rock smashed into the ground where I had just been. The people who had been working held their hands to their heads, looked around, or otherwise showed expressions of confusion. This confusion quickly escalated into terror as an enormous black shape emerged from the stone. I recognized it as a creature from Apocrypha that Storn had described: a Lurker. With stomping steps it ran down a fleeing bandit and swatted him, sending him tumbling head over heels down the mountainside. Not finished yet, it spat a stream of black fluid at a woman, the acid melting her down like steel in a forge. I gagged as the acrid smell reached my nostrils. Yelling a wordless war cry to try and focus its attention on me instead, I shot two fireballs at it. Some heroic fools were trying to slash at it with knives; they were quickly eliminated. Soon there was nothing for it to vent its rage on other than me, and it lumbered toward me, clearly intent upon doing just that. Backing up rather quickly, I shot two more fireballs at it, then drew my sword, dodging neatly as it swung a clawed hand at my side. I dodged less neatly a second time as it followed up with another swipe of its other hand, then stabbed it through the back as it over swung. It fell without a sound, the wispy darkness around it fading to nothing but a normal black creature.

I sheathed my sword, breathing a little hard. That last swipe had come closer than I would have liked.

Well, at least this was a start. This Shout could at least break Miraak's hold over people, although it would probably do absolutely nothing useful when I fought Miraak himself. I guess Storn had come up with something useful, though; I probably owed him an apology. Thinking of which, I should probably get back to the Skaal village and let them know what had happened here.

The village was quite close, just a short walk from the Wind Stone. I entered it, sold off a couple extra valuables to the villager working the forge, then spoke to Storn.

To my complete lack of surprise and extreme annoyance, he told me that I should now go free the rest of the people enslaved by the Stones, which were of course located all over Solstheim. Not that I didn't want to help them, but still! Couldn't anyone else ever do anything? Even as I thought this I knew that obviously they couldn't, because they weren't Dragonborn and couldn't Shout. So, giving up, I agreed grudgingly to go free the rest of the Stones.

I stayed that night in the Skaal village, then departed early the next morning, hoping to reach all the Stones that day. Storn had marked them on my map, so at least I knew where to look. I had also already been to the Earth Stone, but I planned to free that one last and stay in Raven Rock afterward.

Several hours, four Lurkers, and many freed and confused people later I had finally freed all the Stones and was in the Retching Netch. I had carefully avoided Veleth, remembering suddenly my promise to check out Fort Frostmoth. I felt a bit bad about that, but with Miraak probably growing stronger in power and desire to conquer every passing hour there was no way I could take the time to go explore a fort right now.

After taking a short and rather unrestful sleep, I headed back to the Skaal village. Storn was… meditating? outside his hut, but he looked up as my boots crunched in the snow. "What news do you bring, Dragonborn?" he asked.

"I've freed all four Stones," I replied. "What should I do next?"

"Frea has brought back another of the black books," Storn informed me.

Forget what I said about having to do everything myself. I didn't know where Frea had gotten this book, but I was pretty sure it hadn't come from a market vendor.

"It is the one that Miraak himself read, and it will help you find the knowledge that he found. You must read it and return to Apocrypha to find this knowledge."

I hesitated. Returning to Apocrypha was not even something I had considered. One typically had a better chance of defeating an enemy if the battle was fought on familiar soil. Perhaps Miraak had once belonged to this world, but now he was a resident of Apocrypha, a land I was completely unfamiliar with. Fighting him there would give him a distinct advantage, and he already had most of the advantages to begin with. _But I'm not going there to fight him, _I reminded myself. I was going to retrieve knowledge. The odds that I would run into Miraak were fairly small, but not as small as I would prefer. Yet, I saw no other choice. I needed something more than what I had to defeat him, and this course of action might get me that.

"Where's the book?" I had made up my mind.

He looked at me gravely, then reached into his coat and pulled out the book. I took it gingerly, holding it as though it might explode at any moment and instantly having second thoughts.

I opened it before I could change my mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

More tentacles, spinning, and splotches of green, then I was back in Apocrypha. This time no welcoming committee awaited me, which didn't hurt my feelings as the last one had been rather rude. Since I for once wasn't in mortal danger, I took a moment to evaluate my surroundings.

The first thing I noticed was that there were books everywhere. I suppose I ought to have expected that, Hermaeus Mora being the Daedric Prince of knowledge and all that, but there were a _ton _of books. They were stacked into piles, crammed haphazardly into shelves, and even just floating around in midair, along with several loose pages. Apparently the prince of knowledge was an unorganized slob.

Next I noticed the green liquid and waving tentacles. Now I understood why Hermaeus Mora chose to appear as a mass of tentacles in his dealings with mortals. Clearly he got the idea from his plane of Oblivion. And I didn't know what that green fluid was, but it looked unpleasantly like the acid that the Lurkers had spat, and I decided it would serve no one's best interests for me to fall in it. Well, maybe it would serve Miraak's interests, but I was uninterested in his interests…. I'll stop now.

Directly in front of me was a glowing flower sort of object. It looked like it ought to do something, but I was rather reluctant to touch anything associated with Apocrypha. I looked around. There was nowhere to go, as the corridor in front of me somehow led absolutely nowhere, merely ending with an opening through which I could see more acid. Perhaps the flower was some sort of activation device? I finally drew my sword and poked it, jumping back as it snapped shut in response. The corridor slowly began to rotate. Ignoring my misgivings, I jumped onto it before it could completely clear the area, jogging to the other side. The walls to either side would not permit me to see anything, but the corridor momentarily stopped by itself at another place to jump off. I did so and found another flower thingy, which I activated with me sword again. The corridor started to move once more with me along for the ride. This stop had another of the large black books standing on a pedestal. Was I supposed to read it? Would it take me back to Solstheim? I had only been here about 10 minutes and already the darkness and oppressiveness was wearing on me.

Without picking up the book I flipped it open and read two words before the spinning started.

Chapter Two.

I materialized in another tunnel of Apocrypha. Part of me regretted that I hadn't been taken back to Solstheim, and the other part of me was glad I hadn't. The glad part shrunk to almost nothing after I had activated a flower, gone through a tunnel, come out into a larger room, and walked straight into two Seekers and yet another Lurker.

I was rather more afraid of Seekers than Lurkers, but it turned out my fears were unfounded. They died like anything else I had ever encountered and didn't try to use whatever power had forced me back to Solstheim the first time I had been here. They did, however, use some sort of magic that lessened my own Magicka, made my movements sluggish, and sent waves of burning pain through whatever body part it touched regardless of armor. I quickly learned to avoid these blasts of magic at all costs while still closing with them. I would have stayed away and shot fireballs, but they would transform into black floating wisps and chase after me, teleporting from in front to behind me in an instant.

Honestly, the thing that annoyed me most about them was their stench. I really couldn't think of anything in Skyrim or Solstheim to compare it to.

After this there was another flower, and another book, then some more Seekers, then another flower which opened a gate which led to a folding bridge with a Lurker. Another flower, more Seekers, then I came to a circular room with nothing but a pool in the center. Eyeing it distrustfully I sidled around the side, trying to stay as far away from it as possible.

A long green tentacle whipped out of it and wetly slapped the floor as I dove forward out of its way. I dashed the rest of the distance to the corridor on the other side, hearing the thud as it once more slapped the ground behind me as I ran. My heart was racing with the surprise of it, even though I thought I had been expecting it.

I killed a few more Seekers in the tunnel, then opened yet another book.

Chapter Four.

Here there was nothing but a corridor to walk through. I walked through it up to another flower, activated it, and saw yet _another _book. Sighing, I opened this one as well, prepared to be taken yet somewhere else.

"All seekers of knowledge come to my realm, sooner or later." I spun around as the abnormally loud voice echoed from behind me.

An eye floated in midair. Not just an eye, either, but a writhing mass of tentacles surrounding an eye.

When I had entered Apocrypha, somehow the possibility that I might run in Hermaeus Mora himself had not even presented itself.

I couldn't really think of anything to say, and anyway I felt I should let the Daedra speak first.

Wait, he already spoke first…. I meant wait for him to speak something else, something I could actually reply to.

"I know why you are here, Dragonborn. You seek to learn that which Miraak learned in his service to me." The tentacles waved gently back and forth.

"Yes" was the only thing I could think of to say.

"What you really want is to use your power as Dragonborn to bend the world to your will. Here is the knowledge you need, although you did not know you needed it. The second Word of Power."

The familiar sensation of word merging with soul squirmed within me, teaching me _Hah_, the word for mind. Instead of being elated at finding the second word to a Shout I became even more wary. Daedric Princes _never _gave away anything for free. I felt sure that somehow there would be a price for this.

"Use it to bend the will of mortals to your purpose. But," he drew the word out, and my fears were not unfounded, "this is not enough. Miraak served me well, and he was rewarded. I can grant you the same power he wields, but all knowledge has its price."

There it was, the _but _that I had been waiting for. "And what is the price for the last Word of Power?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

"Knowledge for knowledge. The Skaal have withheld their secrets from me for many long years. The time has come for this knowledge to be added to my library." The tentacles moved faster, almost as if in agitation.

Something didn't add up about this. "If Miraak is your champion, why would you help me defeat him?" I asked. It felt a little strange- okay, very very strange- to be questioning a Daedric Prince about this, but I felt it was a very valid question.

"He has served me long and well, but he grows restless under my guidance. His desire to return to your world will spread my influence more widely, but it will also set him free from my direct control. It is time to replace him with a more loyal servant. One who still appreciates the gifts I have to offer." The large eye blinked once, very slowly, and I carefully disguised my revulsion.

"What if the Skaal refuse to give up their secrets?" I asked, trying to stall for time to decide what to do.

"My servant Miraak would have found a way to bring me what I want. So will you if you wish to surpass him."

And that is why I hate dealing with Daedra. They are literally always right, and they can somehow maneuver you into doing almost anything.

"Send the Skaal shaman to me. He holds the secrets that will be mine." The eye blinked once more, then the whole wiggly mass vanished.

I stared at the black book in front of me that would take me out of Apocrypha.

Hermaeus Mora had me caught between a hammer and an anvil, as they say. I knew, and I had no doubt that he knew that I knew, that Storn would never refuse to give up whatever the Skaal's secrets were if there was but a chance of stopping Miraak. I wasn't sure what would happen to the shaman when Miraak took the secrets, but if I had to bet on it I wouldn't say it was something good. If Hermaeus Mora didn't kill him in some way, I would be surprised. If I told the shaman what the prince had said, he would feel honor bound to give up the secrets. Alternatively, I could just try to face Miraak without the power of the final word. After all, there was no guarantee I could defeat him even with the full Shout. I suspected that the last word would allow me to control dragons as Miraak did, but even if I learned the word, Miraak had had entire eras in Apocrypha to master it. I doubted seriously that I could wrest control of the dragons away from him after knowing it only for a few days.

In the end, the truth was that I had a better chance of killing him with the Shout than without it, and the only way to get the Shout was to have Storn Crag-strider give up the Skaal's secrets to Hermaeus Mora.

It was with a heavy heart that I entered the far brighter light and life of the real world once more. Storn had been waiting with Frea and instantly stood up at my arrival. "Did you find the knowledge you sought?" he asked.

"Part of it." I hesitated again. It really was unfair of me to ask him to put himself at the mercy of a Daedric Prince just to get one advantage in a battle, but I didn't see another way. I hated forcing people into things, knowing what it felt like not to be in control of one's own fate. "I met Hermaeus Mora. He told me the second word to the Bend Will Shout, but he refuses to give me the third without a price."

"And the price is the secrets of the Skaal," he said heavily. "No, do not look so surprised. Herma-mora has sought after our secrets for as long as we have kept them from him. I regret that I must be the one to give them up, but the Prince of Knowledge will have what he wants in the end."

"What exactly are these secrets?" Yes, I know that the word 'secret' means something that is kept hidden, but I think if he was willing to divulge it to a Daedra he could tell me too.

"Ancient lore, handed down from shaman to shaman. They tell us how to talk to the wind and listen to the earth. Herma-mora desires these secrets because it is in his nature to horde all knowledge, and our efforts to keep them from him have only made him all the more eager. The ancients foretold that t would be the duty of the shamans to protect these secrets, but also to give them up when the time had come. I believe that time is now."

In a wordless sign of respect I nodded to him, unable to think of anything to say. I found myself unable to look at Frea. Doubtless she would blame me for this somehow. Or maybe not somehow. Maybe I should have killed Miraak the first time I entered Apocrypha.

I took the black book Frea had gotten out of my pocket and handed it to Storn. As he reached to take it Frea grasped his arm with her hand. "Father, let me," she implored, showing the first signs of anguish I had ever seen her display.

"No, Frea. You are not the shaman yet, and there must be someone to rise to the position when I am no more." He placed his other and on hers, and I looked away, suddenly ashamed to witness the scene that I had caused.

"As always, father, I stand beside you," she said quietly. She backed away, looking on with a pale but composed face.

Storn visibly braced himself and opened the book.

I had expected the worst, but not _this_ worst. The book rose to float in midair and enormous tentacles darted out of it, impaling Storn through the chest before I even had time to blink. Frea screamed and I gasped in horror, uselessly grasping at the hilt of my Daedric blade. "Do something!" she screamed, half sobbing.

There was nothing to be done. Storn had no time even for last words. I could see he was dead even before Hermaeus Mora said, "Dragonborn, you have delivered me the gift I requested. In return, I keep my promise, as befits a Prince of Oblivion." The power of the final word rushed through me. _Dov,_ Dragon. At least I could have the flatly insignificant pleasure of knowing I had been right. "I give you the Word of Power that you need to challenge Miraak. You will be either a worthy opponent or his successor, as the tides of fate decree." The tentacles vanished, leaving both the black book and Storn's body to thump to the ground. Frea was at his side even before that, and half the village was gathered around by now.

A moment later she stood up, eyes hard. "Go. My father sacrificed himself so that you could destroy Miraak and lift his master's shadow from the land. Go then. Kill Miraak, and do not fail."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_Do not fail. _The words echoed in my head as I mindlessly slaughtered yet another Seeker, heading slowly but inevitably to Miraak. I had found four different books, each named for an object located on an altar in the center of a room with four paths intersecting at the middle. Near the end of the fight was always the hardest place of a tomb, cave, or dungeon to get through, so why should Apocrypha be any different?

I knew I wasn't in my right mind right now. I was enraged over Storn's death, and although I knew it was Hermaeus Mora who had actually killed him, Miraak was someone I could actually fight. Killing him might not make it right, but at least then Storn's sacrifice would not be in vain.

Yes, I knew I wasn't thinking straight, and I didn't care.

Suddenly out of nowhere came the roar of a dragon, but I was not afraid of it. I waited calmly until I could see the serpentine beast emerge from the gloom of Apocrypha. "_Gol- Hah Dov!" _I Shouted. Instead of rushing down to attack me, the dragon landed with a heavy thump.

"Miraak has forced me to serve him for too long. Nahkriin saraan lingrah. Let us destroy him together." The dragon turned its neck to the side, waiting for me to climb on.

Even in my current state of mind I knew that riding a dragon that had been Miraak's servant for thousands of years was not a good idea, but there was no other way. I stared hungrily at the summit only a few hundred yards away. There was no way to reach it unless I could fly.

I climbed on, and the dragon took off with a roar. I felt the rush of wind and breathed in deep, preparing myself to fight. My body trembled, not with fear, but anticipation.

"Beware; Miraak is strong. He knew you would come here." I felt the dragon's powerful sides rumbling as he spoke.

The dragon landed on a wide open circular space. Miraak was there, standing in the same guise as I had last seen him. Two serpentine dragons flanked him, mouths gaping slightly open, saliva dripping from their reptilian lips. They too were itching for a fight.

"Sahrotaar, are you so easily swayed?" My dragon said nothing, only curled his lips at his former master.

Miraak turned to face me. "And so the First Dragonborn meets the Last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha. No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended. He is a fickle master, you know. But now I will be free of him. My time in Apocrypha is over. You are here in your full power, and thus subject to my full power. You will die. And with the power of your soul, I will return to Solstheim and be master of my own fate again. Kruziikrel! Relonikiv! Now!"

I ducked behind a stack of books, wincing as the heat of flames from both the dragons' mouths washed around me. To my surprise the books didn't catch fire. I heard Sahrotaar's roar as he darted into the air. Both the other dragons followed him, chasing after him as he led them in contorted maneuvers around the summit of Apocrypha. I jumped out from behind the books and unleashed two fireballs at Miraak.

"_Wuld!" _He used Whirlwind Sprint to effortlessly dodge the missiles, and shot some of his lightning at me, which I also managed to avoid. I dashed toward him, drawing my Daedric sword at the same time. He raised his staff at me, and I prepared myself to deal with whatever the weapon would do.

I could not have possibly been more unprepared. Instead of shooting it directly at me, he shot the ground just in front of me. A writhing mass of dark tentacles sprouted up out of the ground. I tried to jump over them, but one latched around my ankle, pulling me heavily to the ground. Miraak was there in an instant, cutting down at my neck with a sword. I slashed the weapon aside with my own and cut the tentacle in the same movement, then rolled to the side as Miraak's blade came down once again. Kicking out with my boot I managed to catch him in the foot, tripping him and causing him to fall almost on his own tentacles. I jumped to my feet, but Miraak was somehow also on his feet. We closed with each other, only to leap away as the warring dragons dashed directly overhead, shaking the earth with the thunder of their wings. I shot another fireball at Miraak, hoping to catch him unprepared, but he was too quick and avoided it once more. Instead of retaliating with his lightning, this time he used the Fire Breath Shout. "_Yol… Toor Shul!"_ I managed to dodge this as well, if falling flat on your stomach can be called a dodge. He was on me in an instant, once more going for the killing blow, but I Shouted "_Fus Ro Dah!" _and threw him off me with the Unrelenting Force Shout, the very first I had learned.

"The Greybeards taught you well," Miraak observed. "I will have to eliminate them when I have the time."

By the Divines, I hated Miraak's smug, self-confident attitude. I went for something completely unexpected and threw my sword at him. It was a terrible throw and had no hope of ever killing him or even wounding him really, but it did distract him. I followed up with two fireballs, both of which caught him square in the chest.

He didn't catch fire. Heck, his robes weren't even scorched, but he did stagger back and grasp at is chest.

Up until now, I hadn't even managed to hurt him or even really get close with an attack. But here was a sign that he was human, that he could be slain. Heartened, I threw myself forward, determined to capitalize on this chance. It was not to be, however. He used the Whirlwind Sprint once more, dashing to the very center of the battlefield.

"Kruziikrel, zii los dii du!" he commanded. One of the maneuvering dragons broke away and dove down, turning into a burning comet as it came. By the time it hit the ground nothing was left but the skeleton, and Miraak looked as strong as he had when we had started the fight. Miraak had somehow just absorbed the dragon's soul and used it to heal himself. I hadn't known such a thing was even possible.

I realized though that if he was willing to resort to such a drastic measure those fireballs must have hurt him pretty badly. A few more solid hits and I could end this fight once and for all.

Miraak must have realized this as well, for he made no more snide comments. Instead he began using Shouts to greater advantage, keeping his distance from me as he realized I was stronger than him in hand to hand combat. I soon became frustrated at his unwillingness to allow me to get close, although I didn't allow that to change the way I fought. I knew he was waiting for me to make some sort of mistake.

It was he who made a mistake first. I was facing him while the dragons were behind him, so he didn't see that they were about to crash into the ground, locked in a deadly embrace of teeth and claws. The thud as their combined weight struck the ground made me stagger and Miraak nearly overbalance. I used my advantage to send another pair of fireballs at his head.

"_Fus Ro Dah_!" Miraak used the same Shout that I had not long before. The fireballs struck the Shout and bounced straight back at me. I tried to dodge, but couldn't quite get out of the way and one of the flames left a streak of burnt flesh on my arm where it had sizzled by. Teeth clenched, I weathered the pain. I had been through far worse than a little burn. Still, I held the arm close to me and didn't try to use it as Miraak finally advanced, closing in now where he had been unwilling to do before. It hurt to move it, and every little gust of wind that blew over it hurt like the rasp of a razor.

Miraak sensed this and attacked twice as hard, sword flashing from side to side. I was finding it hard just to keep up with the number of blows, let alone mount a counter attack. Normally he would be able to move faster than I could, but I had anticipated this and worn my Thieves' Guild armor instead of my Daedric armor. He thrust his staff at me in an attempt to catch me off guard while I parried his simultaneous thrust, but I twisted to the side and snatched the staff out of his hands as he overextended. Passing it behind my back from my right hand to left, I shot it at him. The tentacles instantly erupted from the end, causing Miraak to jerk back with a cry of bitter pain. I could see his robes bubbling in the caustic fluid produced by the waving things.

But had I won? No. Miraak teleported back to the center of the room once more. I realized what he was about to do and focused all my remaining Magicka on two withering Incineration spells, but it was too late. Miraak forced Sahrotaar to fly down and surrender his soul, healing himself completely.

I raised my sword as Miraak turned toward me. I didn't even have time to react as he used Whirlwind Sprint to propel himself directly in front of me. The lethal tip of his sword caught on one of the books in a stack near me, and Miraak stumbled at this unexpected resistance. I bowled him over with a shoulder slam, and we both rolled over and over, swords forgotten as we punched and pounded each other, both trying to end up on top.

I ended up on top. Miraak saw his death looming as I raised my hand, a hint of flame escaping from the glove.

I lost control of the spell, and indeed, also lost control of my sight and hearing for a moment as a deafening roar blasted from right in front of me. I had completely forgotten the third dragon, Relonikiv. Freed from harassment by Miraak's absorption of Sahrotaar's soul, he swept over me. I just caught sight of his underbelly as he swept overhead, then a blinding, searing pain erupted in my upper right chest and I was bowled off Miraak.

More confused than really hurt, I turned my head to look down from where I lay on my back. A dark red stain was spreading around a thick black object embedded deep in my right shoulder. I reached a hand up to touch it, still disoriented, and was rewarded with a blast of pure agony. My vision went black for a second, and when it came back, Miraak was standing over me. I tried to jump up, I really did, but mostly I just stiffened and began to shake uncontrollably. Relonikiv landed heavily behind Miraak, and from somewhere far away my mind noticed that one of the black spikes that adorned his tail had been broken off.

"And so, the First Dragonborn defeats the last. I leave you to make peace with your gods before you die. As for me, I shall conquer the lands that you hold so dear, with no one to call master but myself. You may rest knowing you have failed to stop me." Kneeling, he twisted the spike viciously in my shoulder. I heard a sort of closemouthed scream, then realize it came from me.

Miraak climbed onto Relonikiv. "You were a worthy opponent, Dragonborn. For that, I hope your death comes soon."

Then they were gone, though whether the dragon had flown away or I had just lost my vision I couldn't tell. Slowly, I turned my head to the side, seeing my fallen sword lying nearby. I stared at it until my eyes began to flutter from blood loss.

Miraak had won, and I had lost.


End file.
